


Possession

by bluehawthorn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU - Thorin Lives, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Dwarf/Human Relationship(s), Erebor, King Under the Mountain, King of Dale, Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Rutting, Shameless Smut, post-BotFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4210236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehawthorn/pseuds/bluehawthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard arrives at Erebor and is met with a version of Thorin he is very much unused to. </p><p>Fill for kink meme prompt:<br/>AU where only Dwarves have A/B/O dynamics.<br/>Established Thorin/Bard. Normally, Bard tops. But when alpha-Thorin goes to rut, he tops the hell out of very confused Bard.  -no non-con, dub-con is fine. ++++ knotting!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> Ummm, do I ever know very little about A/B/O dynamics. I probably should not be writing this. But seriously, things sort of write themselves and if they start pouring out on the page, one should post them, yes? In case somebody enjoys them?
> 
> Basically I saw the prompt, I got curious, I did some research, I (ahem) read a bit of porn, I got more curious, I filled the prompt. Mostly I just wanted Thorin and Bard to have some intense smutty sex (and really, don't we all want that?). So...please don't get mad if I did this wrong or you hate this kind of stuff?

They take turns. 

Each fortnight they alternate their liaisons between Erebor and Dale. It is his turn to go to Thorin this time and the anticipation is beginning to thrum through Bard's mind and belly. His time with the dwarf King cannot come fast enough.

Less than a week before he is to travel to Erebor on the night of the dark moon, a raven arrives. It is from Thorin, asking him to come early. 

Bard, assuming this is because of a pressing matter of state, clears his schedule for that night and the next day. There are small inconveniences, but he is a king now and as such he is accommodated. And for himself, he is only relieved that the waiting will soon be over. 

And so, he arrives later that night at Thorin's bedchambers. The guards and servants know him well, and no one does anything except nod or bow slightly as he passes them in the corridors. 

He takes a moment to savour the excitement he feels, taking a deep breath before knocking lightly and opening the door.

No sooner has he walked through and closed it behind him than he is charged and slammed into the wall. His body reacts to the threat, all of his muscles tensing and his arms come up to shield himself. 

It takes a moment for him to register that it is Thorin. Thorin, pushing his body back into the barrier behind him and wrapping a hand around his neck to pull him down into a desperate and hungry kiss.

He is used to being met with the King Under the Mountain’s signature gruffness on these visits. It always takes him time to warm up, although eventually he becomes an ardent and generous lover. It has never been like this before.

Thorin pulls away for a moment, letting him breathe. His eyes are glazed over, his pupils dilated. He is grabbing at Bard's jacket and tunic, stripping them away. Bard holds him at bay for a moment, straining against Thorin's hands, which are now moving roughly over his bared skin.

Searching his face, he asks, "Thorin...what is this?"

Thorin just continues to push him back with an avid mouth (now licking at his nipples) and fervent hands (now moving down to cup his ass) and an overall urgency Bard has never seen in him before.

Amidst his surprise and growing arousal, something dawns on Bard. “Are you...in rut?"

He had known such things happened to dwarves but he has never seen it before...hasn't even asked much about it, which he is now distinctly regretting. And Thorin hasn't offered a lot of information - he has simply assured him that it did not happen often at his age. 

Thorin still doesn’t answer. Instead, he picks Bard up as easily as though he is a child, sweeping his feet out from under him. The difference in their height makes this feel like falling for a few dizzying seconds and means that he must wrap his legs around the dwarf's waist and throw his arms around his shoulders to steady himself. 

This brings them to a more even level. Thorin crushes him wildly against the wall again, sucking bruises into his shoulder and neck. He has never truly realized how strong Thorin is. He has obviously been holding back in their encounters until now.

"Ow!" Bard flinches as Thorin's teeth find purchase on his throat. This seems to bring Thorin just enough back to himself that he mutters "Sorry." Then, still mouthing at Bard's skin, "Yes. In rut. Too many Omegas in heat at the same time. Overpowering pheromones. Need you...now." And with that, Thorin is carrying Bard towards the bed.

He tosses Bard down on it and then flips him over onto his stomach. Thorin climbs on top of him covering Bard with his wider bulk and grinding hard against him. His intentions are clear.

This too is unlike Thorin. Bard usually takes _him _. Dwarf men are built for such things. There are so few women amongst their kind that their bodies are made to be penetrated without the effort and often discomfort that is associated with such things for human men.__

Plus, Bard is just stepping into his role as a ruler, and finding his power. Thorin lets him experience and experiment with it - even flex it a bit - when they are together.

On the other hand, Thorin has carried the weight of leadership and burdens beyond Bard's imagining for many times longer than Bard has even been alive. Bard thinks that this is probably why Thorin seems content to surrender himself to a lover's will. 

The bedroom is likely the only place where he does not have to be in charge. And Bard is more than happy to offer him whatever relief he can in this regard.

But this time Bard is pressed down into the mattress with Thorin on top of him, pulling at his trousers and snarling into his back. He manages to get Bard's pants down around his knees and Bard kicks them the rest of the way off. 

Of course Thorin would be an Alpha. He must have been consciously submitting to Bard before this, but now that he was in rut his underlying dominance was showing itself. 

Thorin stands up suddenly and grabs something off the table by his bed. He tosses it to Bard, who manages to twist around and catch it just in time. A vial of oil. 

"Prepare yourself," Thorin growls.

Bard has a moment of uncertainty. It surely does not seem as though Thorin is going to go easy on him. But he cares about this dwarf, and wants to please him. He has certainly pleased Bard on many occasions. 

And he has to admit that he finds this version of Thorin somewhat exciting, if not also confusing and even a bit frightening. Also, he believes a thwarted rut can be painful and he doesn’t want that for his lover. 

He gathers his courage and pours some of the oil over his hands as Thorin takes his clothes off in front of him, watching him intensely as he does so. His muscles seem more taut and rippling than usual, almost as though he has just been working at the forges. 

Bard only has time to smear some of the oil over himself before Thorin is on him again. Wherever they touch, his skin is fever hot. 

He places Bard's hands on his own cock, which despite his nerves is fully erect. Bard obeys the silent command, and begins to stroke himself as Thorin rubs the oil over his hole and then plunges one of his thick fingers inside.

Bard cries out in a mixture of discomfort and pleasure. The discomfort fades quickly though, and then he finds himself arching into Thorin's hand as he thrusts his finger inside, moving it in slow, probing circles to open him. 

His other hand replaces Bard’s on his cock, and he palms it roughly while adding a second finger. Bard moans, his chest heaving against Thorin, who presses in close and crooks his fingers to make Bard jump, sensation flaring through him. 

He hovers over Bard in a way that is nearly aggressive. It makes Bard feel as though he is losing all will of his own and he finds himself simply laying back and letting himself be taken. He is slowly going pliant and subservient in Thorin's heated grasp. 

It is powerful, the effect of this rutting king. Even on him. He cannot imagine what it would be like for an Omega dwarf in heat. 

Or how Thorin - whose face is now a mask of lust, who is now becoming even more fervent in the movement of his hand and fingers - must have felt around the Omegas. The Omegas of whom the king would have had his choosing. Bard takes a moment to feel honoured that Thorin called him here and waited for him. 

He can feel Thorin’s impatience growing. Thorin removes his fingers, and leans down to kiss him again, this time his tongue sweeping into Bard's mouth and against his own almost ravenously. He eventually pulls away and orders, "Hands. Knees. Now."

Bard turns over and pulls up onto his hands and knees. Thorin grabs a pillow and stuffs it under his own knees to give him more height.

His hand grips Bard’s hip and the other positions his cock so that it is nudging at Bard’s entrance. Bard takes a deep breath and then Thorin is prodding into him, a low noise rumbling out of his throat. Bard's body clenches in protest but Thorin buries himself slowly to the root of his thick cock and Bard cannot help but groan and whimper at the size of the intrusion.

Thorin gives him the space of a few breaths to adjust and then presses a strong hand down on his lower back and pulls out part way before shoving Bard forward with an unforgiving thrust. He does this slowly a few times, each time less uncomfortable and more pleasurable for Bard. And then he cries out and it seems to topple Thorin over some kind of edge. 

He begins fucking Bard almost savagely, riding against him with hard fast stabs of his cock. He runs the burning of his hand forward along Bard's back, and takes hold of the nape of his neck, pulling him back into every thrust. 

It actually seems as though Thorin's cock is swelling further inside him, the pressure growing. Bard feels himself stretched as far as his body will allow.

Bard grits his teeth against the discomfort, and concentrates on the throbbing current of pleasure that is rising through him. It is something deeper than anything that he has felt before and it grows each time Thorin slams into him. 

The feral noises coming from Thorin make Bard’s head swim. He is so full he aches, but he does not want it to stop. He reaches down and touches himself and the added pleasure counteracts the pain. It isn't even pain anymore exactly - just such an intensity of sensation that it is nearly overwhelming. But he bears it.

Thorin is completely caught in the rut now. Bard can feel him become more animal and frenzied with each passing moment. He has pushed Bard's head down towards the bed so that he is leaning on his elbows, and is using both hands to pull Bard's hips back into each pounding stroke.

Bard feels consumed by Thorin, like he is being utterly possessed. It turns him on so acutely that a few more jerks of his cock and he is coming. His vision hums and he can feel himself tightening around Thorin in hard spasms. His loud cries are muffled into the bed, as he convulses through his climax.

One of Thorin’s arms curls around Bard's stomach, pulling him back even harder. He continues to fuck him. Bard is quivering and oversensitized now and his breath comes in short shuddering gasps. 

Just as he thinks he cannot take it anymore, Bard can feel Thorin’s cock begin to pulse and his balls press tight against him. Thorin roars and thrusts forward, releasing so much fluid that Bard can feel it leaking out and wetting his thighs.

Eventually Thorin lets him go, and Bard collapses onto the bed. Thorin follows behind, still inside him and rolls Bard onto his side so that Thorin curves around him, catching his breath. Bard sighs, feeling utterly debauched but somehow also replete.

A few moments later, Bard notices that Thorin is not softening inside him nor is he making any motion to pull out. He is beginning to get sore and tries to ease away, but it is as though Thorin is locked inside him.

If anything, Thorin has become even larger than before. How is this possible? Bard startles and tries to pull away more sharply. Thorin grabs him and pulls him back, holding Bard flush against his broad chest with a grip as unyielding as stone.

“Thorin, what is happening?” he asks, his voice laced with anxiety. 

“Shhhhh, it’s alright,” Thorin replies in a comforting tone into his ear, still sounding distant but more like himself. “It’s just the knotting.” 

“The what?”

“We’re knotted. We’ll be fused together for a while. Just relax.”

He has heard of this too once or twice, if vaguely, but still finds it difficult to untense his body around the pressure in his gut. "How long will it take?" 

Thorin finally seems to understand how confused he is and stills. "You have never experienced anything like this before, have you?” There is real concern in his voice now.

“No, I have not,” Bard replies.

“I'm...sorry. This must have been quite...a lot...for you.”

“It was,” says Bard truthfully and Thorin stiffens. “But I enjoyed it. I wish I'd had a bit more advanced warning or at least more knowledge, but I'm glad to have had the experience with you. I am glad you chose me.”

Thorin’s body relaxes a small measure. “Again, I am sorry. This rut took me by surprise too. And I hate to say this but it may be a while before we can separate. And then I may need to go again shortly after that."

“I see,” says Bard, not sure how to take this news. 

“Just lie close and rest with me. I'll be more clearheaded and gentle this time. Give me a few minutes and I'll work on getting you ready for the next round.” 

Bard chuckles. “Well, I don’t have much choice, now do I? I seem to belong to you tonight, King Under the Mountain. Do with me what you will. I submit to being your Omega for the time being.”

“Good,” Thorin growls, the jagged edge of lust already back in his voice. And Bard surrenders to this new sensation, leaning back into Thorin’s embrace. Suddenly, being locked together doesn’t seem all that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing from the Hobbit. 
> 
> Comments welcomed and always very appreciated.


End file.
